


Fallout

by eponymous_rose



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, suicide mention just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponymous_rose/pseuds/eponymous_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s the thing about manufacturing a civil war: once the illusion’s gone on long enough, people start believing it all by themselves.</p>
<p>[AU in which Carolina stays behind to help Kimball rebuild Chorus. Spoilers through 12x18.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

"You're sure?" Kimball asks. She's got her helmet under one arm, a smear of engine grease across her forehead. Her eyes, Carolina thinks, are more shadowed than they were yesterday. Less shadowed than they'll be tomorrow. "We can trust his intel?"

Grey is in full armor, Federal Army white liberally spattered with old and new bloodstains. She's been patching up both armies for nearly a week, now. In that time, Carolina hasn't seen her sleep once. Of course, Carolina's not entirely sure Grey has heard of normal human concepts like sleep.

"Sure," says Grey, and jerks a thumb back at a figure in white armor standing in the corner of the room. "If this guy says there are fifteen ex-Federal Army insurgents approaching Armonia from the west gate at midnight tomorrow to assassinate you, then that's what's gonna happen. I mean, I went to school with the guy. He was  _such_ a nerd, but he always knew where you could get the super-gory uncensored comic books, so he was totally okay. Learned all I know about medicine from those books."

Carolina decides to let that one go. She shoulders her borrowed rifle, stares down the sights. The sights which are, she figures, at least four degrees out of alignment. She's not in any danger of violating her personal code of non-lethality any time soon with Chorus's dwindling stores of weaponry. "I'll check it out," she says. "You stay here."

Kimball's eyebrows come together in a scowl. "I know how to fight, Carolina."

Grey's beaming smile somehow translates through her helmet. "Ooh, bodyguard-slash-girlfriend drama!"

Carolina keeps her voice low. "You're not expendable. I am." Kimball scoffs and rolls her eyes, but Carolina crosses her arms, lowers her voice still further. "I mean it, Vanessa. These people look up to you. You're the only reason we've managed to hold two opposing armies in the same city under a ceasefire for as long as we have. If we lose you, who are they gonna follow? Doyle?"

Kimball doesn't smile. Carolina can't remember the last time she saw her smile. "I can think of a candidate, if she'd ever get over her  _fucking_  obsession with self-sacrifice."

The words jolt up Carolina's spine to echo in the void left by Epsilon, by Eta and Iota. "You don't get to talk to me about self-sacrifice—"

"Oh my  _god_ ," Grey says, stepping between them. "This has officially stopped being cute. Just cut out the angry-flirting and decide who's coming with me. Also, someone should probably, uh. Look into why there's a grenade on the floor."

A pause. Everyone turns. There is, indeed, a grenade on the floor. Carolina's already moving when Grey says, sadly, "Comic-book guy, why?" and the roar of the explosion drowns everything else out.

Carolina's shoulder connects with Kimball's midsection, crumpling her at the waist, and she twists as the concussion slams them both off their feet and into a wall. Kimball's helmet is still off; the pained grunt of her impact sounds even over the ringing in Carolina's ears.

They hit the floor, Carolina recovering her footing clumsily, dragging the rifle back up to her shoulder, staring down the sights as her HUD lights up with armor integrity warnings. Her IFF protocols are useless here, illuminating everyone as a potential threat, including three of Kimball's downed soldiers and Grey's groaning form.

But Grey's informant is still standing in the doorway, a pistol in his hand. He drags off his helmet when Carolina brings her rifle to bear on him, when she tells him to stand down. He's practically a teenager, his head shaved and dyed in a haircut that he'll probably regret vividly five years down the road. He meets her eyes, raises his pistol to his temple, and says, "For the good of Chorus."

Carolina looks away when he fires, her finger twitching on her rifle's trigger in sympathetic echo.

Kimball coughs, breaking the silence, and Carolina turns stiffly and snarls, "Medic!" There's blood pooling under Kimball's head, a gash along her hairline bleeding profusely, but her eyes are open and focusing. "Hey," Carolina says, supporting the back of Kimball's head with one hand. "Look, you're okay. Stay awake."

"Believe me, I'm awake," Kimball says. She's breathing hard, shaking in what Carolina recognizes as a come-down after an adrenaline high. She sucks in a slower breath; Carolina rests her other hand over her chest to feel her breathing. "Somebody give me a report."

One of Kimball's lieutenants sprints into the room, freezes at the sight of his leader on the floor, then salutes. "One hostile only, ma'am. He's down."

"It was just him," Grey puts in, uncharacteristically subdued. "He came alone with the intel. I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought him back. I figured it would be okay since I knew him. Since he was alone." She's already got a tube of biofoam in one hand, pushes past Carolina to apply it to Kimball's forehead, stares down at her scanner. "You're fine. Looks worse than it is. Bit of a headache for a while."

"You're wrong," Kimball says.

Grey does a double-take. "No, uh, see, the instrument's pretty easy to read. You're A-OK."

Kimball pushes Carolina's hands off her, then somewhat contradictorily reaches for her again to drag herself to a sitting position. Carolina rests a hand at the small of her back, supporting her, and for a second Kimball leans into her and closes her eyes.

Then she pushes away again, focusing on Grey. "I mean, you're wrong about him," Kimball says. "He's not alone. He's just the first."

They're quiet for a moment, the shouting outside sounding impossibly far away. Then Grey bounces back to her feet. "Look on the bright side," she says, her tone dragging determinedly back to 'terrifyingly cheerful'. "You're alive, aren't you?"

Carolina watches Kimball's gaze flicker over to the dead soldier on the floor. Watches her look away, watches the shadows deepen in her eyes.

"Yeah," Kimball says, and reaches blindly across the gap between them to clutch at Carolina's hand. "I guess we are."


End file.
